


Niflheim Academy of Magical Practices

by Araceil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abhorsen, Action, Chamber of Secrets AU, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humour, M/M, Mahou Sensei Negima - Freeform, Mistborn, Multi-Crossover, New School, One Piece - Freeform, Shadow Hearts - Freeform, So many OCs, chapter specific warnings in notes, fairy tail - Freeform, foreign school, monster hunter - Freeform, no betas we die like men, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: “The Ministry must be seen to do something”, and with that, Harry Potter's wand is snapped. Expelled in his Second Year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.But there are more schools than just Hogwarts. With Voldemort still alive, the Chamber of Secrets open, and his friends in danger, he will need every resource his new school possesses in the coming years.





	1. Chapter 1

“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” Professor Dumbledore asked politely, a clear blue fire blazing in his eyes as he stared down the pureblood who had so rudely invaded Hagrid's hut in the dead of the night.

“_Dreadful_ thing, Dumbledore,” Mister Malfoy demurred as if he didn't notice the disapproval, rummaging under his cloak for a long roll of official looking parchment. “But the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension – you'll find all twelve signatures on it.” He handed it over with a flourish and a smirk. “I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon wasn't it?” he asked slyly, “At this rate, there'll be no muggleborns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an _awful_ loss that would be to the school,” he lamented, the faintest shadow of a triumphant smirk curling on the edge of his lips as he inclined his head.

Minister Fudge went pale.

“Oh! Now! See here, Lucius,” he blustered, looking alarmed, “Dumbledore suspended? No, no... last thing we want just now....”

Mister Malfoy rolled his eyes. “The appointment – or suspension – of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge,” the former Slytherin pointed out smoothly, impatience colouring the edge of his tone. “And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks....” he trailed off meaningfully with a significant look at the stony faced wizard in question.

“Oh!” Fudge exclaimed, “But I have a solution! One that.... upon second thought, I dare say would actually work better with the governors' decision....” he fussed with a sudden frown.

Hidden under the invisibility cloak, Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances. They didn't like the sound of that.

“Oh? Do tell, Minister, do tell,” Mister Malfoy drawled, looking bored.

The Minister glanced at Dumbledore before nervously mopping at his sweaty forehead, “Well, you see, it's all rather _obvious_, isn't it?” he asked imploringly, looking around at them all. “This Heir of Slytherin malarkey. Slytherin's Monster. Why, the man was most well known for being a Parselmouth, amongst other things. You Know Who is a known descendent who could speak it, and we know the talent is hereditary. The House crest is a snake – it stands to _reason_ that the monster must be a snake of some description,” the politician explained logically, wringing his hands, and his handkerchief.

Harry felt Ron palm his face quietly behind him, muttering about why they hadn't thought of that. Meanwhile, the green eyed Gryffindor began to get an idea of where Fudge was going with all this, and felt _sick_.

“I assume you have a point, Fudge?” Mister Malfoy sneered coldly, making the Minister flinch.

“Of course! Of course! Err, y-yes, well, I mean, people _talk_, you know? And given recent events – and discoveries – bearing in mind that the monster is likely to be a snake, some people at the Ministry – _notme_ – are beginning to wonder if You Know Who didn't go after the Potters because he didn't want... _competition_. And while I don't think for one minute that Mister Potter is _responsible_ for the attacks, the fact remains that he's the only one capable of controlling the monster that we know of and – ” he rambled, sweating nervously in his pinstripes as Dumbledore's eyes got colder and colder as he spoke, Hagrid began to swell and redden threateningly, and Mister Malfoy's eyes began to glitter with something an awful lot like glee in the candle light of the hut.

Harry felt like someone had shoved a hand into his chest and squeezed his lungs shut. He couldn't _breathe_.

Hagrid exploded.

“_JEST WHAT ARE YEH TRYIN' TE INSINUATE?!!_” he roared, starting forward only to stop as Dumbledore's arm shot out to bar his way. Fudge squawked and scrambled backwards in shock. “THA' _HARRY_ IS RESPONSIBLE FER ALL'A THIS?! THA' A TWELVE YEAR OLD BOY WOULD – I OUGHTTA – ” He made a violent hand motion and stepped forward again, ignoring Dumbledore's arm against his stomach, as if it weren't even there, only to stop and go silent when Mister Malfoy snorted nastily.

“Twelve is hardly any different to thirteen,” he reminded them unpleasantly, eyeing the groundskeeper with a nasty smirk. “How old _were_ you when Headmaster Dippet – ”

Dumbledore interrupted, his voice as mild as milk, but utterly implacable. “I will never allow one of my students to be expelled without evidence of wrong-doing, Cornelius.”

“Ahhh, but Dumbledore, there's nothing for you _to_ allow, is there?” Mister Malfoy interrupted with dark amusement. “Did you forget already? You've been suspended as Headmaster of Hogwarts. There's _nothing_ you can do to prevent the Minister from taking whatever action he sees fit in your _absence_,” he explained silkily as Dumbledore went very, very still.

Fudge fiddled with his hat, “It is merely a _precaution_, Albus,” he pleaded quietly, like a child seeking approval. “For the peace of mind of the public, once the Heir is caught, Mister Potter can resume his education at Hogwarts, his record clear. But – but for now, the Ministry _must_ be seen to do something, Albus. I hope you understand....”

“You are making a grave mistake, Cornelius,” Dumbledore stated ominously, his eyes cold.

The Minister seemed to wilt a little before taking a breath and straightening up. “We will see. Hagrid, if you would?” he asked, stepping to one side and gesturing to the door. “Auror Dawlish is waiting outside. He will escort you to the Ministry for Processing while I speak to Madam McGonagall about Mister Potter.”

Hagrid looked like he would have rather fed the Minister to Fluffy. Piece by piece.

“Yer a blitherin' idiot who ought t'go an' boil his head. 'Arry's a good lad. _Heir o'Slytherin_, an' I'm the Queen o' Tir-nan-ogg,” he scoffed darkly, his voice dripping with a vicious brand of sarcasm that Harry had never heard from him before. “Yeh'll regret this day, mark me, yeh'll regret it!” he snarled even as he stormed out.

Dumbledore carefully rolled the Order of Suspension up and tucked it into his sleeve. “Actions, like words, once taken cannot be reversed,” he informed the room at large solemnly even as he swept after his groundskeeper. “I hope you are prepared for the consequences, Cornelius,” he stated grimly.

“Worry about yourself, Dumbledore,” Mister Malfoy chuckled darkly, “and where it is you're going to be sleeping from now on.”

The headmaster sniffed dismissively, “I will always worry about my students over myself Lucius,” he admonished mildly. “They need only reach out and ask, and I shall do everything within my power to aid them.”

The blond wizard scoffed, making clear what he thought of Dumbledore's aid as the headmaster left the hut completely.

The two remaining wizards didn't bother to linger. They left, the door swinging shut behind Fudge, and Harry's legs gave out beneath him in disbelief and horror. The thud of his knees hitting the floorboards muffled by Fang's barking as he scratched on the heavy door between him and his person.

Slowly Ron stripped out of the invisibility cloak, his voice stuck somewhere between his throat and his chest, unable to comprehend what had just happened. With absolutely no justification or proof or – or –

The Minister of Magic had expelled Harry Potter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Could he even _do_ that? Just.... ruin some kid's entire future because he wanted to without anyone able to say anything? Dumbledore could, had tried, would have tried, but couldn't because Malfoy's father had done _something_ to make the board of governors dismiss the headmaster and –

He shuddered, grabbing his friend's arm. “Harry, c'mon, we have to go!” he croaked fearfully. “If Fudge shows up at the tower and we're not _there_....” he trailed off, imagination going wild with terror. If the Minister were willing to expel his bestfriend for just being a convenient target, then how would he react if Harry actually made it _look_ like he was the Heir? Wondering around who knew where after curfew, having an invisibility cloak to help him along? He might throw him into Azkaban along side Hagrid!

Somehow he managed to push, pull, drag, and cajole his insensate bestfriend up to Gryffindor Tower under the cover of the cloak, actually managing to get him inside before he just froze all over again, staring up at everything as if it were the last time he would ever lay eyes on it. Which – no, Ron didn't want to think about it as he pulled the cloak off and, breaking all forms of etiquette, began to stuff it into Harry's front pocket while trying not to cringe at how this would look to anyone walking in.

It wasn't a moment too soon either, as almost immediately after the portrait door swung open, admitting a white faced, thin lipped Professor McGonagall and a stony faced Minister Fudge.

Ron shifted protectively in front of Harry and glared at the Minister with a quivering bottom lip. He had lost Hermione, he couldn't – _wouldn't_ – lose Harry too!

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth but Ron found himself cutting her off without thinking. “You _can't_ expel Harry! Not just because he's a Parselmouth! That's not fair!” he shouted, gripping his bestfriend's shoulders tightly as if to shield him from their plans. He could feel Harry shaking, the faintest of hitches in his breath that he knew from experience with Ginny that heralded tears and felt something hot and ugly _boil_ in his gut. “HE'S NOT THE HEIR! HERMIONE'S IN THE HOSPITAL WING AND HIS OWN MUM WAS A MUGGLEBORN! SO WHAT IF HE CAN SPEAK TO SNAKES? HE DIDN'T EVEN _KNOW_ HE COULD! HE JUST THOUGHT EVERYONE COULD DO IT! YOU CAN'T EXPEL HIM!”

“Ron? Professor? What's going on?”

Percy, in his nightclothes, looking very young and gangly at the top of the stairs, his night shirt one of their dad's old ones, hung just below his knees revealing skinny pale legs.

“Return to your dormitory, Mister Weasley,” the Minister blustered even as the whole of Gryffindor Tower began to stumble out of their dormitories and down the stairs in their night clothes, rubbing sleep from their eyes or staring in confusion at the confrontation happening below. At the way Ron Weasley was curled protectively around a violently shaking Harry Potter, the Minister looking increasingly alarmed and sweaty stood next to a stony faced and suspiciously bright eyed Professor McGonagall.

Ron turned to Percy, pointing accusingly at the Minister.

“HE ARRESTED HAGRID FOR NO REASON AND NOW HE WANTS TO EXPEL HARRY JUST FOR BEING A PARSELMOUTH!” the red head bellowed, red faced and frantic, “HE CAN'T! IT'S NOT FAIR!”

“Life isn't fair, Weasley!” Fudge snapped, “Like it or not, Mister Potter has been expelled, and if you don't want to end up in a cell in Azkaban for obstruction of justice you'll quiet down and do as you're told!”

Murmurs and protests went up amongst the Gryffindors, always easy to rile and get worked up over a perceived injustice. Even those who had been playing with the idea of Harry being the Heir of Slytherin were incensed. This wasn't how it was supposed to be done, wasn't how it should be. Where was the trial, the evidence, the proof?

Not even the Minister could expel someone, or throw them in Azkaban, without proof!

_That wasn't how things were done!_

“DO IT THEN!” the red head roared, voice easily tearing through the clamour beginning to kick up in the tower, squaring up to now red faced Minister, his blood _roaring_ in his ears, burning like fire under his skin. “GO ON THEN! ARREST ME! YOU SEEM TO BE DOING IT TO EVERYONE ELSE!”

“RON NO!” Harry suddenly yelled, grabbing him and pulling him backwards. “You can't! You _can't!_ Hermione – someone has to – you have to stay and protect Hermione,” he moaned quietly. “I'll go,” he announced, loudly enough to be heard. “I'll go, just – just _please_, leave Ron alone,” he begged, quickly moving away from his friend as the red head tried to grab at him, Percy already down the stairs and catching his youngest brother before he could do something to _really_ get in trouble.

“What – wait – Harry no! This isn't _fair_! He can't _do_ this! Surely there are laws or something!” Ron protested as Harry shuffled over to McGonagall and Fudge.

“I _am_ the Law, Mister Weasley,” Minister Fudge bit out harshly, “and after this display, you should be thankful that I don't Fire your father.”

Ron went white then red with anger and fear, mouth fastening shut so hard his lips vanished while Percy looked like he had been stabbed in the stomach, freckles standing out starkly on his too pale skin. Whatever everyone else's facial expressions were, Fudge seemed to realise he had gone a step too far in front of far too many people. He blustered a little and drew himself up, gesturing impatiently for Harry to hurry up out of the room before treating Professor McGonagall to a particularly sour look before he stormed out.

She observed her lions for a moment before nodding her head stiffly. “Return to your dormitories, I will address this incident in the morning. Come along, Potter,” she told them before her tone gentled considerably as she guided Harry out of the room.

He looked over his shoulder as he left, and Ron felt as if someone had clawed his stomach out when he saw that Harry's cheeks were wet.

* * *

Whether it was because he was secretly enjoying it, or he was taking out his annoyance and frustration about how he was treated, but Minister Fudge seemed to take a malicious amount of satisfaction out of bringing Harry's loyal holly wand down over his knee. The loud crack of snapping wood tearing through the room like a gunshot.

The broken hilt and shaft were unceremoniously slapped into his open palms. Harry stared down at them mutely as he heard the Minister saying something to Professor McGonagall, whether he left then Harry didn't know because it was then that it all came crashing down on him. Everything and all at once.

He gripped his wand to his chest and crouched down, curling himself over it silently.

He had learned years ago to keep his grief quiet, to cry without making a sound.

He had not yet fallen out of practice enough to let even the wail that clawed like a thing _alive_ up his throat out.

He gritted his teeth and pressed his lips shut against his snivelling even as his nose began to run and his eyes continued to burn and stream like a pair of taps not completely turned shut.He could feel Professor McGonagall kneel on the ground next to him, her thin but strong arms wrapping around him tightly, smelling of ink, parchment, lavender, and gingerbread. She stroked his head and didn't bother with useless empty platitudes as she let him cry himself out. She just held him until he could pull himself together.

And when he was done, she let him have a moment to collect himself before pulling back, leaving a chill where she had once been. “Come along, Potter. Your belongings will have been collected by now. We'll say goodbye to your friends, get some breakfast into you, and then I'll.... I will take you home,” she finished, her voice wobbling.

He choked on a fresh well of tears. “This was my home,” he croaked miserably, gripping his broken wand as if his hands were glued to it, the rough splinters digging into his flesh.

She was gentle as she urged him off the floor. She didn't hurry him through the corridors as he plodded along slowly, pausing every now and again to absorb his surroundings, trying to engrave them into his memories before the beautiful dream of the last year and a half truly did fade and die completely. She let him take his time, let him breathe it in, and tried not to let her own heartbreak show.

Minerva couldn't remember the last time Hogwarts had expelled a student, she knew there were at least two incidents after Hagrid had been dismissed, but she couldn't recall when. Both reasons for such were _warranted_ though, nothing nowhere near as pointless or malicious as simply possessing a frowned upon blood-borne talent. She seethed quietly in the recesses of her mind as somehow even Peeves sensed the sombre mood and paused long enough, and quietly enough, for Harry to say his goodbyes to the often disagreeable mischief maker.

Expelled for being a Parselmouth. She doubted it. She _highly_ doubted it.

Most people forgot, what with how he constantly hung on the Floor for Albus's advice, that Cornelius Fudge was a manipulative cunning little _bastard_. Oh, he was arrogant, stubborn, and both spineless and overly proud in equal and unhelpful measures, but he despite how foolish and idiotic he was, he had the ability to think in the long term, to gain flashes of brilliance and insight decades before they would be useful. It was how he _became_ the Minister for Magic, how he even gained the right to campaign to begin with. He started his political career early, barely half a decade out of Hogwarts, those early decisions, that brief flash of insight before his eyes were blinded by galleons, took him to the top during his lack-lustre campaign that was only half-heartedly funded by his wife's widower of a father.

If Cornelius Fudge hadn't expelled Harry Potter as an attempt to curb a future political rival, she would kiss Argus Filch full on the mouth!

Really! By the time Harry was in any position politically or even _physically_ to campaign as Minister for Magic, Fudge would have retired or moved into the Wizengmot and thus been unable to even _hold_ his office. It was, after all, illegal to be Minister and retain a seat – a gross conflict of interest.

When they re-entered the Tower, she was unsurprised to find her lions still awake and waiting. Judging by the low murmur of voices and the looks on their faces, Mister Weasley the Youngest had given them all the complete run down of what had occurred – though how he happened to know that the Minister had arrested Hagrid was something she would love to know.

She lifted a hand to preemptively silence them before they could even begin.

“Stop. Mister Potter, Misters Weasley, all those relevant, take your goodbyes to the dormitories while I speak to the rest of your House,” she commanded, gently giving Harry's shoulder a small squeeze and letting go so he could go to his friends. Dry-eyed now but subdued, as he quickly moved to Mister Weasley's side and took his hand, pulling the scowling red head up the stairs to the second year dorms, all of his yearmates, the Weasley twins, Mister Percy Weasley, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team scrambling after them. Everyone else was barred by a ferocious Lee Jordan at the foot of the stairs telling them to butt their ugly noses out.

“The Minister can't just do that, can he, Professor?” one of the fifth year girls asked, clutching her dressing down around her tightly. “Expel someone without warning?”

Minerva sighed and took a seat in one of the quickly vacated armchairs.

“No doubt Mister Weasley has informed you of what has occurred, but, just to confirm the facts: Yes, the Ministry of Magic has seen fit to step in on the Chamber of Secrets incident,” she explained solemnly. “The board of governors have suspended the Headmaster over the matter, they do not believe he has done enough to try and prevent the attacks, and they lack confidence in his ability to protect the students. As a result, there was no one in any position of authority to argue the Minister's decision to expel Mister Potter.

“Hagrid, whom I am sure many of you know and are fond of, was previously connected to the Chamber incident fifty years ago. The Ministry has decided that in order to handle the current unrest, all individuals connected are to be removed from Hogwarts. As such, even though he possesses both mine and Headmaster Dumbledore's complete trust and confidence, Hagrid has been arrested and consigned to Azkaban Prison for the foreseeable future – ”

“But Professor!” a sixth year piped up frowning, “surely he got a trial? Right? They can't just decide he's guilty and throw him in without proof!”

Minerva sighed, “Unfortunately, Miss Dunvegan, the Minister for Magic _can_. During times of civil unrest he can move with autonomy outside the norm. Originally it was so that the Minister could sign emergency laws into practice, executive orders, to work for the betterment of Magical Britain should he ever feel his office was compromised in any way. With spells like _imperio_, compulsions, potions, and curses, it has been a very real concern during times of war.” She took a deep breath and wished, not for the first time in the last twenty four hours, for a very _stiff_ drink. “However, due to administrative errors during You Know Who's last rise, the unrest, the sudden disappearance, the political backlash from many prominent pureblood families suddenly claiming to be under the influence of _imperio_, the mad scramble to maintain the Statute immediately after his fall with witches and wizards partying in the streets, the procedures were never written off.

“Legally and officially, England is still in a period of civil unrest, thus giving the Minister complete authoritative control outside the bounds of the law. As such, on top of arresting Hagrid without trial, he can also expel whomever he wishes from Hogwarts as long as the Headmaster does not object. And as Lucius Malfoy saw to Professor Dumbledore's suspension....” she trailed off, letting her words hang with stark ugly insinuations she had no intention of attempting to correct.

“But, why did he expel Potter?” one of her forth years demanded, scowling. “Did he _really_ set the Monster loose?”

She frowned at him, “I am going to pretend you did not say that, Mister Marsh. There will be no accusations, no blame, without first there being _proof_. A young man has just had his entire future ruined without proof or justification, he has been expelled from these halls for no other reason than being able to speak Parseltongue. That is all. The Minister has reasoned that as Slytherin's Monster is currently believed to be a serpent of some variety that surely there must be some manner of connection. Ignoring the fact that Mister Weasley so loudly pointed out earlier that Mister Potter's mother was, in fact, muggleborn herself. And that his muggleborn bestfriend is currently lying, petrified, in the Hospital Wing. It is ludicrous to even consider him as the Heir of Slytherin,” she stressed harshly, drawing herself up to her feet and staring down her nose at her lions.

“Harry Potter is a _Gryffindor_. And whether or not he calls this castle home, _he always will be_,” she declared strongly.

* * *

The goodbyes between Mister Potter and his friends did not take long, all things considered. It was actually trying to pry Mister Weasley the Youngest from him that took the bulk of the pre-dawn hours, talking him out of leaving Hogwarts with him in a show of solidarity, of attacking the Minister in revenge, of holding Mister Malfoy the Younger hostage to force his father to reinstate the headmaster. Harry vetoed them all, reminding the red head that someone had to stay and take care of Miss Granger, protect her. He would make it, he would manage, he had been managing since he was left on that doorstep. He would just have to catch up on his muggle education, it was fine.

It broke her heart to chivvy him out of the tower, young Percy having to hold his youngest brother back and stop him from chasing after them as she took Mister Potter away.

Deciding to avoid the Great Hall, and no doubt the heckling of Slytherin House who were probably already aware of Mister Potter's expulsion thanks to that little albino toad Malfoy, she took him into the kitchens for breakfast. He had clearly seen a house elf before, though she couldn't think of where unless he caught sight of one of their own, and didn't even ask what they were as they were sat down and served a swift breakfast. They ate in silence, Harry being too despondent to do anything more than nibble on his raspberry jam toast, and Minerva with her heart quietly breaking even further couldn't muster her house's famous courage to dare break the silence.

If he drew out his breakfast far longer than she knew he usually took, she didn't comment, merely poured herself another tea and waited him out. Were it any other student she probably would have snapped at them to hurry it up, but she wasn't heartless, and this whole situation was _wrong_ no matter which way one looked at it. So she let him take his time, she let him gather himself, and when he was ready, they left the kitchens behind and went to the small ante-chamber next to the Great Hall. The very same one he stood in last year when he first arrived, waiting to be Sorted.

His trunk was inside, waiting, along with Hedwig in her cage, hooting at the sight of him almost in askance.

Minerva closed the door behind them to give them both some privacy before kneeling in front of him, gripping his shoulders gently.

He was so _young_, and _small_. James had never been this tiny, neither had Lily, not even in their First Years. Lily had actually been the taller of the two until they reached Fourth Year and the Gryffindor boys all seemed to obtain their growth spurts at the same time, returning to school after summer with an extra six inches of height to her two. Of all the students she had seen pass through this room, Severus was the closest to being this small in his first year, but even then he was a little taller, more filled out. Minerva had worried when young Harry stepped through those doors. She knew neglect when she saw it, and it was stamped on every inch of the poor child.

“We will be taking something called a Portkey back to Privet Drive,” she explained softly. “It will be a bit of a bumpy ride, just to warn you. I will explain the situation to your relatives. I know your home-life isn't as happy as you allow others to believe, but I will not allow you to come to harm. You are one of my lions, no matter what. I will be speaking with your family and laying down some _ground_ rules,” she told him firmly, catching the alarm that crossed his face at her words. “And I will be checking in as often as I can, to make sure your relatives are following them,” she finished, hoping that the tightness of her hold on his shoulders would convey her honesty properly.

She had failed him twice now, she refused to do so a third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niflheim Academy, now being rewritten and ported over from Fanfiction.net.
> 
> Hopefully it flows a lot better now. As always, please advice me on tags you think appropriate.
> 
> ((Fingers crossed I can bring the Foreign School trope back to life because it's my favourite but there are SO FEW GOOD ONES OMFG).)


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a week after his return to Privet Drive Penitentiary Centre, Harry fancied that if it hadn’t been for the very menacing lecture that Professor McGonagall forced his aunt and uncle to listen to things would have been a whole lot worse. For one, the fact that she even followed through on her threat to check in on him only three days after she originally dropped him off – interrupting a dinner that he had not been invited to – only reinforced the fact that their behaviour was going to be monitored. Uncle Vernon had been toeing the line and on his ‘best’ behaviour ever since.

Though that may have also been because the Transfiguration Mistress made a point of turning the sofa into a newt and coolly informing him that such things were child’s play for her. And that it was far easier to do such a thing to a human than a sofa. After all... they had much more in common.

He had gone almost translucent with mute terror at the not so subtle threat, nodding so vigorously it was a wonder he hadn’t hurt himself.

Harry held that memory close. It was probably the only reason he didn’t spend the _whole_ week crying into his pillow. Hogwarts was a raw, ragged wound in his chest. One that showed no indication towards healing just yet, or any time soon. He couldn’t even hold onto the half-thought up bitter daydream of becoming Hagrid’s assistant, trailing after him and carrying his heavy bags and crossbow while Ron and Hermione continued on to become amazing magic users, without him. But that daydream went up in flames before he even considered it a possibility, Hagrid arrested and taken off grounds before Harry had even gotten back up to Gryffindor Tower.

He didn’t even understand what they meant by _expulsion_. Was he exiled from the magical world? Why snap his wand? It didn’t belong to Hogwarts or the Ministry, it was private properly. They shouldn’t have been able to destroy it like that. Was there some law that prevented him from buying another wand? Ollivander had mentioned that his parents had been in to buy their ‘_first_’ wands, did that mean they had more than one? What about his education? Surely the magical world had similar laws to the muggleworld that required children to be properly educated? Or was there a law that _prevented_ him from attending a different school? Would he have to be homeschooled? Was that even allowed for magical children?

Where would he even _get_ a second wand? Would Ollivander let him buy another one? He didn’t seem too happy with Hagrid when the subject of his snapped wand came up.

What about potions, or herbology – was he barred from them as well? Or could he continue learning those subjects and using his magic with them as long as he didn’t have a wand?

Was he even allowed into Diagon Alley anymore? Hagrid was allowed to come and go, but he had a job. What about his vaults and money? Could he still access them so that he could pay for schooling elsewhere? (Did his parents have a vault where their belongings had been left, could he use a wand belonging to his parents? Ron used Charlie’s old wand, and Neville used his dad’s. It was possible.)

He didn’t know. He didn’t know _anything_.

But Professor McGonagall would. And she said he could contact her for any reason.

He peeled himself out of his bedding and shuffled to his desk, sitting down, and pulled a sheet of parchment over. It was perhaps a bit masochistic of him to continue using ink and quills and parchment when he didn’t really _have_ to, after he had been treated like this.... But it would have felt like giving up if he didn’t. And no matter what anyone actually said about him, no one could claim he was a quitter. In fact, they would say he was more like a dog with a bone. Once he got an idea into his head it was nigh impossible to pry it out, and he would end up pursing it to the ends of the earth. Or down into dangerous trapdoors beneath narcoleptic cerberi.

It was as he was writing his final question (Am I still allowed to brew potions outside of Hogwarts?) when he heard a tapping at his window sill.

Even though it was February and freezing cold, he kept it open at all times so that Hedwig could come and go as she pleased, just in case he received a letter from the Ministry saying he could come back, or a note from Ron telling him that Hermione was awake and okay. Any normal owl would have just flown in and landed on his desk rather than knock and wait politely on the sill.

Then he turned, and realised just why.

It was not an owl.

Perched upon the sill was a bird that looked like a mix between a kestrel and a secretary bird, a foot in height, it glowed white and starry-blue, seemingly made of captured starlight, or glowing white mist. Harry had never seen anything like it. He... didn’t think it was an actual living thing. It was too still, completely so. Was it even breathing?

Warily, he got to his feet and approached it.

As he got closer, he realised that he could actually see _through_ it a little. It really wasn’t a living creature. Then he noticed that the... he wasn’t sure, it looked like mist or steam, but it was _filled_ with tiny glowing runes, hundreds of them, drifting throughout its whole form, every individual one glowing. No wonder it looked like captured starlight.

He held a hand out for it so he could take it to Hedwig’s perch, and delicately the magical bird stepped onto his hand and then _shattered_.

The twelve year old inhaled sharply in confused terror and awe as the runes just _fell_. Like glitter, or rain, the delicate bird crumbling on his hand with runes cascading to the floor where they faded out of existence.

Leaving a small wooden scroll on his hand.

He gaped in astonishment, his room oddly dull and dark now without the ethereal light.

He looked down at the scroll balanced on the back of his hand where the bird had been stood moments before and picked it up properly. It was small, double-cylindered, tied together with a red ribbon, the wooden handles looking like small sword hilts, etched with flowers and swirls, tiny chips of moonstone set into the tips of the handles. It was very pretty, only about five inches long, and the paper was a very pale ivory coloured parchment that was so much finer than anything he had ever found in Scribbulus Writing Instruments.

Who on _earth_ would be writing him on such fancy paper, let alone using such a unique, and beautiful, method of delivery? It _certainly_ wasn’t the Ministry of Magic that was for sure!

Curious, and a little wary, he pulled the ribbon off and unrolled the scroll.

At the top of the page there was a delicate decorative border of magic like swirls done in gold ink with tiny five pointed star-like flowers in rubies, emerald, and sapphire. He’d seen designs like that on Mrs Number Eight’s exotic tea sets from the East, he couldn’t remember if it was Turkish or somewhere else, but they had been very beautiful, even if Aunt Petunia had been disapproving of something so foreign being served to her in a British household.

In elegant black script beneath a small coat of arms depicting a staff crossed with a sword atop a book was something that made Harry’s heart stutter almost to a _stop_ in his chest.

_NIFLHEIM ACADEMY OF MAGICAL PRACTICES_

_Headmistress Catherine Winters  
Deputy Headmistress Artemis Riveths_

_Dear Mr Potter,  
Niflheim Academy of Magical Practices are pleased to inform you that as of February the 15__th__ 2012 you _  
_have reached the required magical standards to begin an education within our academy, should you so_  
_ desire to join us. As such, we at Niflheim Academy would like to invite you to attend one of our Open Days_  
_ this spring._  
_ Included with this letter is our standard Student Prospectus, a brochure regarding the grounds, and_  
_ further information leaflets detailing how to reach us, and, should you wish, how to accept or decline our_  
_ invitation._  
_ We hope to see you at our Open Day._

_Kind regards,_

_Artemis Riveths  
Deputy Headmistress_

He had been invited to a new school.

Numbly, he reread the letter with increasing near-hysteria. _He had been accepted into a __**new school!**_

He unrolled the scroll even further, causing a small handful of papers and leaflets to slip out, along with a thin paperback _book_. He loved magic.

One of the leaflets showed a white and blue-green castle perched atop a blue glacier somewhere cold and white, smothered in snow, surrounded by water. Towers with vivid blue roofs, a jutting fang of ice stretching out from the glacier beneath the school like the prow of a muggle battleship. Other pictures inside showed students in thick fur-lined coats on dogsleds, riding elk, or other clearly magical creatures he had never seen before. The uniforms were all black and red, and he _goggled_ to see a centaur wearing a very modified version of one to fit his form. And now that he’d seen him, he couldn’t help but notice a girl with golden skin, black horns, and _four_ arms, next to her was a goblin, and a _dragon_-looking girl that had horns and wings and even a snub-nosed snout.

Opening the leaflet and reading explained that Niflheim had a diverse multiracial staff and student body, their only acceptance requirements were human levels of sentience, over a decade in age, and ‘Magus’ level magical strength. All other issues could be worked around, accessibility for those students with physical disabilities could be provided (a centaur with paralysed back legs was featured with a specialised wheelchair, a mermaid with similar, a deaf boy with dictation quills to write his notes for him), tutor groups and teaching assistant Sendings for those with learning difficulties. Whatever a Sending was.

The school was built in 703AD in Svalbard, atop one of the eight Great Repositories of Knowledge, a legendary library built in time-unknown, by people unknown, where enchantments, Sendings, and a dedicated enclave of House Elves would constantly record ad update the cumulative knowledge, history, and accomplishments of both magical, muggle, human, and non-human beings. Beholden to absolutely no Government or Ministry, the school operated with international immunity, a true neutral zone in thanks to ancient Nordic treatise and geas that were _still_ going strong even today. The muggle Ministry could lay claim to Svalbard itself but not to the school or the Repository. The school wards were linked into the Repository and over the last thousand plus years the two merged into one making it _officially_ the safest school of magic in the world. Proven, over the years, by magical civilisations of the Northern Hemisphere, and even a few from the Southern, waging battle and war in order to claim the Repository for themselves.

Hermione would have given her left leg to attend a place like this, Harry decided, a little choked up at the reminder of his friend as he looked up another leaflet, this time boasting about the school building, grounds, classes, and teachers.

Schooling at Niflheim could begin at any age as long as said student was older than ten and had met the required power-levels, however, they would graduate upon the winter of their twentieth birthday, no matter what. So those accepting their invitation had best do so with an acute awareness of the time they had within the school when choosing their subject of study. Scholars could petition to have access to the Repository and board within a separate school of the wing, but they had to have permission and were heavily encouraged to help the students with their own learning. Many a scholar of obscure magical fields had actually found promising apprentices amidst the students during their study tenures. Detentions were often spent doing chores around the school, such as working in the stables, or the kitchens, teaching the students how to care for themselves upon graduation by teaching them further skills.

There were six core classes, of which only Mind Magics had to be taken for a single year, it could be continued further if desired. History – with the Repository at their fingertips it was to absolutely no surprise that the History course of Niflheim could not be beaten by any other known educational establishment; Music – they were apparently world famous for producing the greatest masters of musically based magic, tying it into several disciplines on top of using it as a branch of magic in its own right; Potions – a fairly nondescript class, but one that had been gaining recognition in the last century with the tutelage of Master Alchemist Roger Bacon. And then there were the two he didn’t recognise, Runo – apparently the study of Spirits and _Outer_ magic; and Galdrastafur – Runic magic, another course in which they dominated over most other schools, but were beaten out for the top spot by both the Chinese and Egyptian schools of magic.

Harry frowned as he looked over the courses. There were no electives for Transfiguration or Charms, but they had included a course about Physical Defence. He had considered it strange when Hogwarts hadn't offered PE before, but now he considered it off that a magical school would even bother with Physical Defence when everyone had wands – not that they neglected magical combat either if the 'Battle Magic' course was any indication.

Looking at the synopses of each class, he guessed Enchantments was something akin to Charms, but he couldn't see anything like Transfiguration outside of Alchemy – which was not offered to anyone without the approval of Dr Bacon. He would just have to study it in his own time then. Given how it was something his father excelled at, and Professor McGonagall specialised in, he didn't want to let either of them down by not learning as much as he could. Besides, it looked very useful, being able to turn one thing into another with magic.

He skimmed the prospectus which told him pretty much the same information as the leaflets but also had small profiles about each of the teachers, and a few famous alumni, of which there seemed to be very few actually.

The Headmistress was the founder of the school, and an accomplished Battle Mage.

The Deputy Headmistress was also the Water Elements teacher, she was also the Faculty Adviser for the Divination Club.

Their Primary Healer taught the healing classes but was also the adviser to the _Exorcism_ Club, and her husband was the Physical Defence teacher. He grimaced a little in uncertainty when he saw their pictures. An elderly woman with bright blue eyes and snow white hair smiling kindly up from the page, and her husband, brown haired, tanned skinned, amber eyed, and barely into his twenties. Such an old lady and a young man? That was.... creepy. Though he supposed the young man could be one of those non-humans that didn't age like other people did. He could even be _older_ than she was, he didn't know, their names weren't listed. Though it was mentioned that they were friends with Dr Bacon who actually recommended them to the school.

Doctor Roger Bacon of Potions and Alchemy was _also known throughout Europe as Nicholas Flamel?!!_

Harry gaped at the little profile, at the picture of the odd shrivelled up old man grinning up from the paper. The Potions Professor at Niflheim was Nicholas Flamel? The man he supposedly killed last year by failing to protect the Philosopher's Stone? But – but – Dumbledore _told_ him that he was dead! That he had put his affairs in order!

...Was he going to be angry at Harry for not saving his stone?

He chewed his lower lip, before scowling. If he had a problem with it, then he would have to take it up with Professor Dumbledore! Harry had done the best he could! He'd ended up in the _Hospital Wing_ trying to protect that stone, it was lucky that he had managed to hold Voldemort off as long as he could and besides! It was _his_ choice to destroy it! Harry had prevented it from falling into the wrong hands, what Nicholas Flamel decided to do with it afterwards was none of his business, and he would tell him so if the man brought it up!

At the back of the prospectus were a number of parchment pages where it explained that if he wished to attend an Open Day he need only cross through the date that worked best for him on the provided pages, the ones already crossed off had been chosen by other prospective students and thus could not be chosen. The final page was a form that asked for his personal information, one that when it was torn out would turn into a 'Messenger Sending', and return to the school with his decision.

Laying the prospectus open, he took a quill and checked the list of dates and times. The earliest was next week on the twenty-fourth, and it hadn't yet been crossed through like a few of the others. He quickly drew a thick black line through the date and breathed a sigh of relief when it sank neatly into the paper, runes flickering like a pulse up the borders of the page.

Then he turned to the form. It looked fairly standard. Asking for basic information, though it did ask for his currently registered hospital or doctor's office. There was also an extra bit asking if he had any particular special needs.

He filled it in carefully, using his best handwriting as he knew it often looked like chicken scratch. He put in a note saying that he'd never been to a hospital but Madam Pomfrey of Hogwarts had seen to him often, she would probably have a file on him somewhere. As for special needs...... he didn't want to write it, but he would never get anywhere without admitting it, and it wasn't like the Ministry were going to keep it secret – it was probably already in the papers, his expulsion.

Signing it off by ticking the box saying he was interested in attending the Open Day, he carefully pulled the parchment out of the prospectus.

Almost immediately it glowed, and Harry yanked his hand back as if burnt. Runes surged up off the page like a leaf-storm, swirling up and growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding and he had to look away. A moment later, it settled down to a soft shimmer, and he squinted open his eyes.

Stood on his desk was a glowing white bird.

It stared at him a moment before bobbing and immediately launching itself off his desk and taking flight out through the open window. He rushed after, and watched as it shot upwards, almost vertically, and was lost amongst the clouds.

Harry stared after it in awe before an uncontrollable grin once again split his face.

He had been accepted into a new school. He _had_ to tell Ron!

* * *

**FULL NAME:** _Harry James Potter_**  
DATE OF BIRTH:**_ 31 July 2000_**  
SPECIES:**_ Human_**  
CURRENT RESIDENCE:**_ 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, SR11 9HO, United Kingdom_

**FORMER/CURRENT SCHOOL:**_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**  
CURRENTLY REGISTERED HOSPITAL/DOCTOR'S SURGERY:**_ Never been to either but Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts probably has a file for me somewhere_**  
SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS (**Wheelchair access, assisted learning, etc**):**_ I want to attend but I'm not sure I'll be allowed because I was expelled and my wand was snapped_

* * *

It took three days for Hedwig to get back from Hogwarts with Ron's reply.

He was really happy for Harry, finding a new school so quickly. But mind, he'd never heard of Niflheim Academy before, but then again, the smaller schools outside Europe weren't really mentioned anyway. These days how well you did in school mattered a bit less than _where_ you went to school to a lot of people – like how Slytherins were almost automatically passed over when it came to Auror recruitment, and how Ravenclaws were rarely ever considered for menial cleaning or catering jobs. And of course the Ministry never hired anyone that had attended Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, not when they could accept a Hogwarts graduate instead.

Still, it was good that another school had snapped him up. He had been worried because there's laws that stop you from continuing your magical education at school if you get expelled. Your only chance is home tutoring if that happens and he knew there was no way Harry's muggle relatives would let it happen, and he doubted Harry could afford it either for that matter! Still, as long as Niflheim wasn't in a country that was part of the I.C.W. then he should be fine.

Hogwarts was awful without him. Hermione was still sleeping. Malfoy hadn't stopped gloating – at least until Ron punched two of his teeth out. He was in detention until Summer Holidays with Snape for it because there was no way to regrow teeth, even with potions. So he was in big trouble. Lockhart was swanning around telling everyone who would listen that he'd always known Harry was bad news, that was why he paid so much attention to him, trying to steer him away from the Dark Side, alas, even he fails at some things. Ginny hadn't stopped crying since he was expelled, she had actually been missing classes, and Percy had gone weird too.

Sprout said the Mandrakes would be ready come May. The greenhouse windows got broken and the mandrakes caught colds, so they buried themselves deep under the soil to hibernate. It would take a while for them to wake up and start growing again, the lazy so and so's.

He was going to have to write everything he could about this new school so that Ron could look it up and see what it was about. After all, Hogwarts was dangerous enough as it was! Who knew what this new place was like and Harry would be there on his own _without_ Ron or Hermione there to have his back!

Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at the letter, feeling warm inside at Ron's trust and happiness for him.

Professor McGonagall dropped in again later that evening after the letter arrived to make sure the Dursleys were toeing the line, she too took the news with great enthusiasm. Though she confessed she was upset that he would be attending a different school, she was just glad he was getting the education he deserved. She, however, _had_ heard of Niflheim. It was a very small school, very specialist, very hard to get into because of the requirements.

“The I.C.W. Laws often mean that very few human students reach that requirement before they are invited to another school,” she explained, perched upon his bed, sipping her tea. “And once attending Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang, one cannot leave and attend another school. We guard our secrets jealously, and what accomplishments that student goes on to fulfil are accomplishments for the school itself.”

They spoke at length about what he could expect at the school, the other species of people that might attend, Harry could very well be attending school along side _trolls_ if they were over ten and had the magical strength!

Before she left for the evening, she promised to contact the Headmistress of Niflheim on his behalf, just to make sure she was one-hundred percent aware of the circumstances behind his expulsion and that it wouldn't be held against him. Harry _might_ have gotten a little misty-eyed over that and let her hug him.

And then.

On the twenty-fourth.

A woman showed up at the front door in a smart blue skirt-suit, with a black handbag, and cold eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter - this time I removed the talk between the Headmistress and the Deputy Headmistress. As Harry is our main character I opted against splitting POVs.


End file.
